


Infrared

by Tsuukai



Series: Collected Fragments [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Retrospective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuukai/pseuds/Tsuukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed like it was all he could see. Flashing from the corner of his eye, making him clench his teeth until he passed by it. And it was all that he couldn’t see as well that caused him to grit around the side walk and hoping he wasn’t kept waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infrared

**Author's Note:**

> Purposely vague; does not really have spoilers for KnB 2 episode 19 (44), but placed in that episode. Can be seen as the start of a one-sided AoKaga relationship. Overuse of the word “thought”.
> 
> This piece can also be seen as a prelude to "Dispose of Me" and/or "Shelf Life" and its predecessors. Otherwise, I think it's quite fine as a standalone. :)

It seemed like it was all he could see.

Flashing from the corner of his eye, making him clench his teeth until he passed it by, an action that caused his jaws to hurt and unable to chew through the meal his mother had quietly informed him was ready. It was all he could see when he closed his eyes right from the previous night until this evening, so bright and there and not moving. The little sun light that filtered through in the late morning burned and collated and… No matter what he thought and what he did, it was all he could see.

So vivid and bright. Like a wound that had scabbed over only to be scratched raw. That the other had picked open, repeatedly in one sitting, and all he could do as a receiver of such an action was stare; wide-eyed and privy to nothing that could save his soul from that glaring bright gaze.

And it had come right back to him losing, didn’t it?

If he had won, the sight of the primary colour he cared hardly for would not be the star of his waking nightmare or the first thought of his rousing hours of this day. No, it would have been a dull buzz of noise that greeted him while still wrapped in his warm duvet, buffing out the cold air that still managed to seep into his room no matter how many times he checked that window; or it could have been of his beloved Mai-chan and her newest centrefold; or it could have been…anything but burning red hair, and red eyes that burned like embers in a cold night.

Daiki hated that emotion curling deep from his belly and, rising slowly and surely, gripping his heart like it had claws sharper than any beast should have piercing it gently enough to keep hurting as he moved. Breathed. Stirring from bed earlier than he was wont to, he had rubbed his chest fiercely hoping to rid himself of that disgusting feeling still lingering in his body.

What had happened? What did that idiot do to him?

These questions and their descendants traversed the large expanse of the space in his head not used outside basketball, Mai-chan, food and sleep. Even then, since basketball was something he did not use his head to think about, there was even more space to question what was happening to him.

All because he lost to that elementary crayon.

All because he was awed in the last few seconds of a game that—if he really used his head and thought about it—was the first match in the tournament that could have paved a gloriously gold road to the championship and, everyone and their mothers would know that Aomine Daiki was _the_ best.

Daiki did not know if he was still alive anymore, though. Waddling like a soulless man, with no purpose, almost feeling like he was crawling to the meeting place assigned by the shadow of a player who left _him_ for that- that- that red buffoon! These thoughts and more drowned any other thought that should have or could have bubbled to the surface informing him of the lamppost he was clearly heading straight for; or the bike rack he bumped into and did not bother to correct his action; or even the buxom woman who had passed him by with a flirtatious smile.

It sucked that the only bubbles that popped up were of the infuriating colour: a red cap worn by a middle-school kid jamming buttons on an arcade game he was losing; the bopping of a red balloon held by a brat whose voice was loud but he could not hear what the thing was saying; the red car speeding on the inside road along which he walked; the red blouse of the woman standing in front of him at the pedestrian crossing; the red—

He, aggravated, rubbed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and almost wished that the sun went down a little quicker than it was doing so now because he did not think that the colours splashed across the horizon was helping that nauseous feeling gnawing at his pounding head. He wanted to stop seeing it all if it would make him feel better, if anything could make him feel better at this point.

And it was all that he could not see as well that caused him to grit around the sidewalk, hoping he was not kept waiting. Because seriously, there was only one thing that could stop this pulsating mass of red—that was growing, and growing, and growing, rearing its ugly head even though the infrared was supposed to soothe him the pain within him—and what were the chances of it consisting of a colour just a shade off from red?

He was glad he did not have to wait long or else his mind would have turned him in with all these unwanted, unstoppable thoughts. Tetsu managed to be blasé about his request, but that didn’t stop the images that were continuing to flood his already hurting head with the reminder of the cause of his feelings standing in arm’s length. If Tetsu had not been—

And Daiki hated himself. Because this feeling, this disgusting feeling that was crowding all thought from his mind, making it a place for nothing but a deep, passionate red, that craved to touch a basketball again, to go up against; to push against the tide of waves that stained him so excruciatingly with emotions he thought he’d never feel again. And so, looking up from the bottomless pit he had unwittingly been stuck in for years, he started to say, “I haven’t slept since then.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my many Firsts: "First Kuroko no Basuke Fanfiction", "First Published Piece", "First Aomine-Feels", "First AoKaga (Unrequited)"... I think you get the point. OTL
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated! :)


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